


A System of Love

by silasfinch



Series: Points of Love and Logic [3]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Marriage Proposal, Rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silasfinch/pseuds/silasfinch
Summary: The proposal fic literally nobody asked for.1/5/2018: New ChapterThanks to  nomisunrider for a fantastic interim beta, catching many of my 'canon' mistakes as well as comma drought.





	1. Rituals I

**Author's Note:**

> Should clarify this is a 'happy' AU where they weren't beset by the final confirmation and Philippa is well (if haunted by past service).   
> I wrote L&L in a fever of excitement and infatuation with the fandom - I overlooked some consistency and cannon will fix this in the coming days.

 

Michael enjoys rituals in all forms.

 

This fact is especially true after a double shift with the latest intake of Academy ensigns and their constant curiosity about the legendary 'Michael Burnham of Vulcan'. Evidently news of her superior senses did not reach them.

 

Conner’s remains confident that other 'exotic crewmate' will join the ranks soon, but such a hypothetical officer is yet to appear.

 

Still, that young (and naturally empathic) Betazoid woman did not need such a harsh rebuke about her telepathic responsibilities. Her anger is not at the girl but at herself and her inability to meet her obligations.

 

Michael allows herself the luxury of pacing the length of her quarters, knowing that she is too energetic to meditate effectively.

 

Were she not so embarrassed to do so, she might call Amanda or Sarek for guidance.

 

There is much speculation amongst her former colleagues and crewmates about what a Vulcan fostering means in practice.  The theories range from mundane to the scientifically impossible. The Starfleet commander and anthropologist suspect that the reality of her situation would be disappointing. After all, it's not as if she was a student at Gol or in isolation on Mt. Seleya; her foster mother is human. 

 

 Michael adjust to the interest and scrutiny, but it takes several years and the development of social banter with topics she finds 'acceptable' to share. In her role as captain and mentor, Philippa insists that this serves an essential function for social cohesion and team building.

 

Michael remains sceptical, but she compiles the list anyway.

 

A Vulcan childhood, no matter what the particular circumstances, is defined by ritual and expectation. Individuals on Vulcan carry the cultural aspiration of performing to the best of their abilities and contributing to the broader Philosophy of Surak in whatever field they chose. Stability and Agility of Thought are the founding tenets of the Vulcan education system.

 

Her friends are correct that she did not have many companions in childhood but what they neglect to consider is that many Vulcan children can make the same claim. Family, friends and connections define the social interaction. Yes, she can claim a admit to a certain level of 'bullying', but learning is fiercely competitive for all, especially as they have yet to master regulation of emotions.

 

Her abilities are not exotic; the Burnham’s possess adequate genetics, and her training maximises a dormant potential. If the 'experiment' that is her fostering in Shi'Kahr repeats, she is in little doubt the results will be similar.

 

She is too distractible to calculate the odds, all she can think about is Philippa.

 

Phillipa, the woman she loves, and the bright spot in her increasingly  harrowing war duties

 

Philippa who refuses to marry her.

 

 

***

 

Courtship Rituals

 

Vulcans do not enter relationships for the sake of romance alone. Therefore, Michael is somewhat bewildered by the way that humans and other species undertake the processes of courtship. The humans of her past acquaintance are not romantic by nature and take a more practical view of relationships.  Amanda's cousin marries a widow who needs support and a father figure for her triplet sons.

 

To Vulcans relationships between mates are for the strengthening of both community ties and to provide support for the individuals. There is less focus on the family connections in modern times, but bonding is still fundamentally vital to the stability of Vulcan society as a whole. Therefore there is nothing casual about the process; the time together leads to an ultimate goal and ceremony.

 

A firm belief in this system is why Michael proposes an engagement 6756.17 standard days after they began dating. There is no significance to that day; it is not an 'anniversary'. Michael values certainty, and she wants their relationship acknowledges before the law should anything happen. Conner’s parents struggle with their unusual family set up when his father falls ill.

 

This final step seems like a significant step but a simple one, she merely asks one day when they hike are hiking near the grounds of the Georgiou Estates.

 

Michael designs a ring that contains a mixture of platinum and jade. She consults with Philippa's brother on the style of family jewellery. In the band, there is a stylised engraving of the coordinates of the Earth, Vulcan and the Shenzhou precise location when they agreed to enter a relationship.

 

Everybody who seems the ring agrees that the ring is ideal for Philippa and there is growing excitement on the ship.

 

Michael is confident that there is little more to plan for once she rehearses the phrasing and timing.

 

The outcome will be both rewarding and satisfying.

 

The one thing that did not factor is Philippa turning away in tears.

 

 

 

 

***

 

Remembrance Rituals

 

Philippa's mood is worrying her lover.

 

People around her insist that Michal give Philippa space, they try to offer comfort. They contend that this is a temporary problem in the relationship and Philippa will 'come around'. The words ring hollow. The commander is grateful that they remain discreet and do not offer commentary in public. 

 

It is not in her nature to just 'let things go' especially when there is no definitive answer as to why the circumstances occur. There is an incomplete narrative here. A narrative reminiscent of when she pestered Sarek and Amanda to complete the story beyond 'happily ever after' or 'logical prevails' when they were children.

 

Her story with Philippa may not end happily (odds are 7:1 in favour of a positive outcome, but there needs to be a resolution. Philippa is talking in circles and contradictions.

 

Michael knows that the older woman will seek as much space as possible. Their relationship is such that she finds her lover's behaviour predictable the majority of the time, even in such usual circumstances.

 

Just because Philippa wants space, it does not follow that space is what is best for her.

 

There is something else at play. This avoidance is not a simple matter of a marriage offer. Philippa is confident enough to discuss this rationally, to offer her opinion. She often says that she does not want them to waste any more time with words unsaid.

 

"You bring the greatest light into my life. I will do everything in my power to make you happy and build a life together. This includes changing my brittle and remote ways."

 

No, Michael has both interracial evidence and faith that there is more going on than simple rejection.

 

The pain her lover's eyes is too pronounced. Michael would almost welcome the news that Philippa found someone more suitable rather than witness that depth of pain and torment.

 

Many factors could be responsible for the narrative the former captain is constructing in her head, without outside consultation. The Georgiou siblings like to tease that Philippa is 'terminally noble' and never misses an opportunity to sacrifice for the sake of others.

Michael refuses to allow this to happen nor will she avoid the joint events that involve them as a couple. Their calendars have tangled together that complete avoidance is impractical if even Philippa deems otherwise.

 

Philippa is also avoiding attending the commemoration of the Starbase distraction that killed three members of her family and the man that was to be her betrothed.

 

The algorithm for the new privacy controls are simple to override; humans rarely chose genuinely random numbers their minds programmed to see and seek to establish patterns.

 

"You are a glutton for punishment aren't you?" Philippa's voice is hoarse from either disuse or tears.

 

"I never consider spending time with you a punishment no matter what the events in question are. We are due at the ceremony in 25 minutes."

 

There is no logical link between the two events, but emotions are not rational, no matter how Philippa works to control them.

 

Vulcans have ceremonies for remembrance and Michael insists that it is necessary for them to attend the open   Katra fi' Salan memory of the deceased.

 

"I have enough ghosts in my head, Michael. I do not need to invite them in for the day" she says cynically

 

"It is important for you to be there. Your nightmares won't ease without acknowledgement. Trust me; I am reluctant expertise in this area" Michael commands gently.

 

"So am I.”  Philippa says deliberately keeping a certain distance between them as the talk, not willing to concede any ground in this disagreement.

 

Michael does not move, not tensing in the face of the anger. She is confident that Philippa's sense of duty will work in her favour at this moment.

 

There is no sense of victory when she is proven right 5 minutes later.

 

***

 

Conflict Rituals

 

Their metaphorical fault lines are appearing.

 

This ceremony is one of the few times when emotion is something of an asset and subtly encouraged. The priests from multiple denominations are taking turns reading out passages of remembrance.  The cultural practices are different but the orators are skilful, and the principles are easy to convey. There is a need for the multicultural events as there is an increasing number of joint missions between races affiliated loosely under the umbrella of the Federation.

 

The Vulcan priests and the students all have heightened telepathic ability but also more skill in shielding. Michael admires the way each orange-robed figure moves amongst the crowd murmuring words of comfort and solidarity, even daring to touch a few who are struggling with the memories.

 

Michael almost wishes she allowed Sarek to be present as he offers to attend right up until the last minute. However, he is working with the Vulcan High Command and cannot easily spare the time.

 

Senek, the healer who took responsibility for her instruction when she was half wild with trauma pauses to greet her with particular affection. His long bony fingers perform the ritual greeting of mourning, and he reaches up to wipe a stray tear.

 

The tear is not for her long-dead parents; those had come when she sat through the guided meditation.  Senek knows this; his fathomless dark eyes see much that is not said.

 

"Have faith in your strength and knowledge, child. You have an achieved much under great duress" he deliberately steps in High Vulcan (Eastern Dialectic) that is not in the Universal Translator lexicon.

 

Philippa is standing beside her with a carefully blank expression, not giving in a sign of registering the conversation. Her attention is fixed on the large firepit in the centre of the room, being carefully tendered by two young students.

 

Michael does she is finding the flames soothing but transfixing is better than nothing.

 

"Is this the hill you want to stand on, forcing me to confront my grief in public with legions of your countryman talking in riddles? An unusual courting tactic to be sure" Philippa's tone is at once weary and brittle.

 

"I believe the two situations fit together in some way" Michael replies honestly.

 

"I am not one of your puzzles Michael, not everything has reasons and rationale. We have just come to a natural impact on our reality."

 

 

***

 

Comfort Rituals

 

 

The evenings are calming

 

Michael is accustomed to living with uncertainty and discomfort. Her existence is an anomaly to both the cultures that raised her. It is only through disciple that she ignores some of the 'worst angels of her nature' to quote a historical human figure.

 

There is no resolution in the situation with Philippa but nor is there a reason for despair, they exist in a stalemate, keeping different hours and communicating through notes on the kitchen PAAD. Philippa is sleeping at her apartment, even if they are all but living together in practice.

 

Michael isn't sleeping well, the night terrors that plague her since childhood return with a vengeance. She can function on far less sleep, but she has gotten used to the familiar comfort that the older woman provides.

 

Instead, she beams but up to the ship, intends on doing something productive rather than wasting her hours not sleeping and composing letters to Philippa.

 

The ensign from Betazoid is standing in the transporter room, apparently studying the unusual design. She shows an aptitude for engineering.

 

"Ma'am… I will be leaving in a moment... I'm sorry.” the junior officer says quickly meeting her eyes.

 

"It is I that owe you an apology, Astrid, your transgressions were not so grave. I let my emotions interfere with my teaching." Michael returns with a gentle smile

 

"Yes I know I could feel your pain loader than an establishing warp drive" the other woman adds in a run of words that may or may not be in her control.

 

"You still need to work on your control though. There are circumstances where your insights are not only inappropriate but possibly dangerous. If for no other reason than to predict you from physic exhaustion."

 

"My parents say the same thing. Do you need to report me? Do I need to leave Starfleet?"

 

It pleases Michael to be able to solve at least one problem today.

 

"Nothing so drastic but I will talk to the Academy Medical Teams about some solutions. Are you familiar with the Kul'Cha'Vir Monastery on Vulcan?"

 

The young ensign nods vigorously.  The training of those gifted in the telepathic arts is legendary.

 

"Let me talk to the intake clerk, and you can attend the introductory course next month."

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

Commitment Rituals

 

Phillipa is not deliberately hiding her presence.

 

Michael calculates correctly that the older woman's sense of duty is such that she would never renege on the promise to see her youngest nephew promotion ceremony.

 

No sabbatical is worth losing time with family even if that now includes Michael by default. Their relationship may be uncertain, but Philippa would never let this interfere with the bigger picture.

 

At this, that is what she is circumstances that she is hoping for when she politely insists on meeting Philippa's shuttle and taxing her back to the family home. Nobody disagrees with her plan, but they do persist in giving her sympathetic looks which is even worse.

 

Michael gets to the platform 45 minutes early rather than risk being late. She uses the extra to drink tea at one of the cafes and catch up on the local news as it plays in the background. The constant stream of commuters is fascinating to observe and provide a counterpoint to her inner monologue.

 

She is learning that she may revere the solitude a silence of Vulcan spaces but the human side of her enjoys observing activity as well. This understanding is a type of observation that Philippa finds fascinating to unpack.

 

Michael hopes she gets the chance to share it.

 

It is gratifying when Philippa disembarks precisely on time, carrying nothing but a light travel case.  She does not look remotely surprised to see the younger woman waiting for her instead of the taxi shuttle she ordered the night before.

 

" Did you hack into the central mainframe of the transport network?" Philippa asks drily by way of greeting as she slides into the seat opposite.

 

"My position with Starfleet Judiciary is ambivalent enough. I did not need to undertake such drastic action nor what I for such a purpose."

 

"Perhaps in normal times but these are extraordinary circumstances."

 

"In some ways" Michael agrees softly " You used the family account, Philippa. It may not seem like it, but there are institutions in this galaxy not currently aware of the change in our relationship."

 

Michael meant for the comment to tease a smile onto Philippa's grave features. The former captain is a fan of such quips and the evolution of Michael's sense of humour. However, today all this manages to achieve is make Philippa finch and look aware.

 

"I never meant to hurt you in this way, Michael. Everything is just spiralling too far out of my control, and as per usual you bare the brunt of the fall out" there is a note of pessimism in the ordinarily confident tone.

 

"Look at me Philippa" Michael commands gently, her turmoil easing in the face of the other woman's pain. It takes a full minute of Philippa to comply, and even then she struggles to maintain eye contact.

 

"I believe you, for inflicting pain is not in your nature. However, you also knew what the consequences of your actions would be; my pain is unavoidable. Therefore I believe you did not undertake such an action without reason. Please talk to me. We cannot continue in this way." Michael pleads earnestly.

 

Philippa blinks back tears, but they do not fall. Michael is comfortable with silence and prepares to wait as long as it takes. They will not discuss the details of their relationship in public. The goal here is to get Philippa to stop running away any time they are together in the same room.

 

The hint of the wedding ring chain is glinting in the sun. Michael finds the light interplay mesmerising. It is gratifying to see that Philippa values the gesture.

 

 

 


	2. Rituals II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The delay wouldn't be as long for the next couple - I have chapters backed up :)

 

 

 

Philippa is waiting for their time to be up.

 

 

The former Captain and venerated Starfleet war veteran cherishes her moments with Michael all the more because she doesn't expect them to last. On a practical level, nobody can make guarantees with the shadow of full-scale conflict looming large. Gabriel Lorca is many things, but consideration for human life and relationships are not amongst his virtues. Michael is only one 'spore drive' failure away from a covert mission in the furthermost regions of Klingon space, if this unknown technology goes wrong.

 

Every separated Starfleet family fears the same reality to a lesser or greater degree. Starfleet is a beacon of first contact and diplomacy. However, that did not mean that mission avoid conflict. 

 

Philippa also fears a quieter separation, one that is no less painful.

 

She wasn't lying when she told Michael she harboured feelings for years. In fact, if Philippa Georgiou were more sentimental by nature, she would claim the love at first sight paradigm.  There was just something about the younger woman and the unique way in which Michael views the world as both a scientist and a citizen. Unfortunately, acknowledging mutual feelings does not make the obstacles go away.

 

Despite what the old ballads say love, does not conquer all. Love softens reality for a while.

 

Philippa resolves to love her former protégée for as long as she fate grants her the privilege.  They make each other happily on a fundamental level that few appreciate, even though their friends and family are mainly accepting.

 

The ghosts still haunt her at night, of lovers, brothers and uncles killed too soon, their dreams dissolving as brutally as the starships sent to protect them.

 

It becomes something of a grim game to tally up the ways that she could lose Michael in the early morning hours when she cannot sleep. Unfortunately, Philippa is a master of the craft and probably knows how to calculate loss more certainty than the most celebrated scholars on Vulcan.

 

Philippa wishes that the Vulcan tea Michael faithfully brews for her every night is enough to ease the pressure in her mind, but it is comforting nonetheless.

 

 

 

***

 

Philippa is waiting for a moment like this; as Michael is fond of saying, accuracy is essential in all things.

They last far longer than Philippa's doubts account for, but the fears are never far away.

 

It is more accurate to say that Philippa spends long hours dreading a moment like this, even though it is beautiful. If circumstances were different, this would be without a doubt one of the happiest days of her life.

 

They have spent a blissful day together during one of Michael's increasingly rare shore leaves. Nothing marks this particular day as extraordinary; Michael guides her around the new Trill art exhibition which bears the appropriate name 'The Rejoining'. The symbiont culture fascinates her for its unique way of preserving the past and the unique cultural customs.

 

Truthfully, Michael could ramble about the latest efforts to improve grass germination in Northern Vulcan and Philippa would enjoy the day as much. If there is one truth Philippa does not deny, it is that she is completely besotted with this woman and everything she represents.

 

Trill use of glass and light is appealing. The conversation flows easily between them and Michael has almost convinced her that they should adopt a baby Sehlet.  Apparently, there is pressure on the local sanctuaries due to an errant allege in the water supply.

 

Michael, being the great animal lover that she is, knows all the details. Their day is likely to end in a presentation and habitat diagrams.

 

Philippa shows her appreciation by cooking Michael's favourite human meals. She is slowly expanding her palette to include non-Vulcan cuisine and her lover delights in trying to find flavours she particularly likes.  Lady Amanda Grayson is an enthusiastic sounding board in this pursuit, sending Philippa Vulcan- Earth fusion recipes that she has developed over the years.

 

They share something of a picnic on one of the trails near Philippa's family estate. The weather is ideal for the long hike, and this activity is one of the few specific things Michael requests when they discuss plans for the two weeks together.

 

"Is there something wrong with the recipe, did I use too much salt?"

 

The comment catches Michael unaware, and she tilts her head in confusion. They are sitting together on collection of boulders that Philippa has come to think of as their place, a spot which offers excellent views of the land she cherishes.

 

"Not at all, the seasoning is fine. I'm enjoying it very much."

 

"Then why do you look like you are solving complex calculus in your least favourite dialect?" Philippa teases gently.

 

Michael offers her a broad smile and brings their hands together, tracing Philippa’s palms along the Vulcan psi points and the minor scars that break the skin.

 

"730.17 days ago we began dating. .18 depending on spacial anomalies you wish to factor into the calculation," Michael explains precisely more for Philippa's amusement than a need for scientific accuracy.

 

 

"Ah let me guess, 730.17 happens to be your favourite prime number?"

 

"The Discovery is doing a series of dangerous jumps in the next few months, and I want to gain certainty where I can. Having you near me is my greatest joy and certainty."

 

"Oh Michael, I wish I could ease your pain."

 

"You can by agreeing to be my wife."

 

The ring that Michael holds out is stunning. She never considers getting married after the loss of her first finance but if she did that ring would be what she would choose. Michael nervously recounts her selection criteria, and Philippa struggles to hold off a panic attack and memories from the past. It is a testament to how distracted she is that her lover does not notice the sudden paler.

 

Michael is not the first to ask this question.

 

Michael is not even the first person to ask this question on her family land.

 

"I'm sorry Michael…but I can't."

 

It is only the advantage of a lifetime of experience on this land that makes it possible for her to flee the scene. Michael follows of course, but she does not know the hidden trails and the herds of woodland creatures hid her footfalls. The younger woman is also too Vulcan in her soul to want a prolonged emotional confrontation this close to a departure time.

 

They are also supremely disinterested in her tears as she hides behind the old feeding shed.

 

She waits 167 minutes before leaving the spot, only because she knows that Michael needs to go to catch the last shuttle.

 

 

***

 

Philippa is waiting for the retribution to begin.

 

In an odd way she is looking forward to the punishment, to the justifications that will feel hollow. Her actions are indefensible, but she needs an outlet for all the restless energy and almost hopes they will come on mass to her door.

 

She knows that their circle of friends and family are witness to this effort. In retrospect, the signs are all there, especially when the newly-made Lieutenant Conners is bursting with excitement when she mentions in their latest chat that Michael is coming home. The lovely ops officer could not hold a secret for all the platinum in the universe.

 

The judgement does not come, even as the word spreads and optimistic congratulations messages flood her inbox and tentative offers to talk. Philippa corresponds enough to avoid a full scale search party, but refuses any social engagements beyond the ones she is obligated to attend for teaching or writing.

 

Surprisingly both Amanda and Sarek call to check on her, genuine concern on their faces, refusing to cast blame, only confirming that Michael is indeed safe at her assigned posting. They assure Philippa they will fly in for an unscheduled ‘holiday’.

 

Saru resist this urge to congratulate her on avoiding the obvious danger of permanent commitment. Her former science officer is as suspicious of marriage as he is of everything else. His gills puff up in sympathy as he agrees to take over her guest lecture at the academy.

 

Her brothers listen to the reasons she gives and wipe at the tears that refuse to stop They know from long experience there is no point in offering resistance. The past is shared between them, but their coping strategies couldn’t be more different.

Spock is the only one who challenges her directly The young Vulcan is a blend of his parents and brings considerable skills to his argument.

 

“Your logic is flawed,” is his concluding remark.

 

She does not offer a defence, for there isn’t one to give but she does him the service of listening to every word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

Philippa is waiting for Michael to leave her.

 

Under normal circumstances, a rejected proposal has immediate and direct consequences. Philippa does not expect this to be different with Michael, regardless of her unique upbringing. The science specialist and academic is prideful and values dignity above most other virtues.

 

Philippa's refusal not only hurts her as a spurned lover, but as somebody who values certainty and does not make life-altering decisions lightly.

 

Philippa knows her nonsensical ramble and refusal has shaken this worldview to its core as only the actions of a lover are capable of doing. Taking about this would be the noble thing to do but there is langue or courage left.  Michael still shops for her favourite foods and prepares light meals that they don’t share anymore.

 

Michael makes no secret of her pain and shares it publicly with the few brave people who ask.

 

Michael carefully maintains the household utilities, scribbling notes about future payments on the slate. She remains determined to make Philippa’s household run more efficiently, even now.

 

Philippa wants to object to these measures, but the faint traces of perfume and meditation herbs are oddly comforting, even if the scent is fading from her sheets. Sarek is guiding Michael through deep meditations and Philippa is glad for the comfort that her foster father provides.

 

This stalemate cannot last forever, Philippa knows Michael is stubborn and will not give up so easily. She is waiting for right moment to plead the case.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Philippa is waiting for the pain to lessen.

 

This wait is a fruitless undertaking, the hurt in Michael's dark eyes seems to haunt her no matter how many times she rationalises her actions and the consequences.

 

The blasted Memorial Service is not helping her frame of mind in the slightest. Philippa Georgiou does not abandon her duty, possible except for the time the whole crew had come down with the Andorian Flu Variation. She is expected to represent the team that her ships have lost. If she can message the families every birthday, she can confront mourning in public.

 

Except for the fact that she is due at the ceremony in just under twenty minutes and has not moved from the bedroom she is no longer sharing. A box of holos is at her feet, and she is wasting expensive scotch on useless memories.

 

It is not entirely surprising when the outer door slides open, and a familiar footfall treads the space with confidence.

 

"You are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Her voice is hoarse from either disuse or tears. She never was a particularly talented or kind drunk, not that she can claim much experience, not after the terrible early days after her family and friends died within a short timeframe.  

 

Michael is kind enough not to mention the scent of alcohol permeating the air. It is taking a superhuman reserve of control, but she resists the temptation to begin cleaning the mess that is on display.

 

The careful way she moves about their joint spaces makes Philippa want to cry, but she does not have the energy, not to mention the intrusion does make her genuinely angry. Why can't Michael act like any other rejected lover?

 

Then again, if Michael were acting in any other way she would not be herself. Philippa loves Michael for all her uniqueness, not in spite of it, even when it causes pain.

 

"I never consider spending time with you a punishment, no matter what the events in question are. We are due at the ceremony in 25 minutes."

 

"I have enough ghosts in my head, Michael. I do not need to invite them in for the day," she says cynically.

 

"It is important for you to be there. Your nightmares won't ease without acknowledgement. Trust me; I am a reluctant expert in this area," Michael commands gently.

 

"So am I."  Philippa is shaking with the effort to remain standing, the last thing she needs is to fall into the younger woman's strong arms, she would never want to leave.

 

The pain doesn't end, and the public display is as bad as Philippa fears, going against every instinct she possesses. The sharing of grief brings no comfort, and the words in multiple languages seem hollow when all she can see is blood and death.

 

At least Michael is finding solace in an interaction with an ancient looking Vulcan who wipes her tears away tenderly.  The scene makes her feel vulnerable, especially when she knows that she is the subject under discussion.

 

She reacts poorly, with sharp words that are beneath her under any normal circumstance.

 

"Is this the hill you want to stand on, forcing me to confront my grief in public with legions of your countryman talking in riddles? An unusual courting tactic to be sure." The tone is at once weary and brittle.

 

"I believe the two situations fit together in some way," Michael replies honestly, refusing to rise to the bait.

 

"I am not one of your puzzles Michael, not everything has reasons and rationale. We have just come to a natural impasse on our reality."

 

It surprises Philippa to see a genuine smile lightening the younger woman's face. Of course, she regards the words seriously and takes several moments to compose her answer.

 

"My life is one long series of odds and countermeasures Philippa. I am not inclined to agree with any 'natural order' as many circumstances have too many variables."

 

The silence between them is long.

 

"Besides, I have faith that you love me more than your doubts can reason away," Michael says quietly, letting emotion colour the words.

 

"Of course I love you...It’s…"

 

Her explanations die on her lips.

 

Michael walks away before speech returns, her posture painfully correct.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Philippa is waiting for the right moment to disembark.

 

She is the reluctant recipient of many concerned messages and offers of support. The ability to demonstrate her  recovery from past and present trumas is essential even if it is only to a private scoring system in her head.

 

Philippa Georgiou cannot lay claim to much pride over the last weeks. In fact, the sobbing wreck of a person is a shell of her usual self; luckily, the only person to witness such shame is a paid professional who does not bat an eyelid.  Philippa's voice is hoarse from disuse, and her limbs protest the many hours she spends meditating and reflecting on the demons of her past. Michael's approach wasn't the right one, but her insistence that Philippa sees a professional is correct, as is the case with many things.

 

She refuses to look anything less than immaculate for her nephew's graduation; she is not going to be the source of idle speculation at such an important event. The fact Michael is going to be there is beside the point, except that it is the whole point.  The extra time she spends styling the hair in the way the younger woman likes is mere coincidence.

 

Her counsellor scolds her for the levels of self-deception, but Philippa cannot claim to be anything close to a perfect patient.

 

The weight of the ring that she still wears around her neck suddenly feels heavy, even if it is always comforting.  She gave up after the 10th time trying to give it back to Michael; her lover simply refused to accept it.

 

No amount of reasoning could ease the stalemate. 

 

Philippa had snatched the ring back when Michael tonelessly offered to have it melted down for recycling purposes. She somehow feels that she conceded significant ground at that moment.

 

Michael is waiting for her in the local café when she disembarks, that if memory serves has some of the best scones made from scratch.

 

Philippa has little time to consider the practices of why and how. The stream of people behind her does not have time for personal drama. The former captain flows along with the tide of passengers, her heart pounding at an almost painful rhythm as she watches Michael scan the crowd for her presence.

 

Their eyes met across a crowded shuttle dock.

 

The disgruntled toddler kicking at the former captain’s ankles ensures that this moment is far less romantic than it sounds. Philippa takes a moment to compose herself.

 

"Did you hack into the central mainframe of the transport network?" Philippa asks drily by way of greeting as she slides into the seat opposite.

 

"My position with Starfleet Judiciary is ambivalent enough. I did not need to undertake such drastic action, nor would I for such a purpose."

 

Philippa can tell Michael is acting braver than she feels, the tension in her wrists gives her away.

 

"Perhaps in normal times, but these are extraordinary circumstances."

 

"In some ways," Michael agrees softly. " You used the family account, Philippa. It may not seem like it, but there are institutions in this galaxy not currently aware of the change in our relationship."

 

"I never meant to hurt you in this way, Michael. Everything is just spiralling too far out of my control, and as per usual, you bear the brunt of the fall out." There is a note of pessimism in the ordinarily confident tone.

 

Guilt is a familiar emotion but for a long while her relationship with Michael is free from these dark thoughts, not any more. The peaceful oasis they have created together is well and truly over. Michael moves carefully now, weary of provoking a response. Seven years of comradery and friendship are slipping away, quicksand rather than a foundation.

 

"Look at me Philippa," Michael commands gently, her turmoil easing in the face of the other woman's pain. It takes a full minute of Philippa to comply, and even then she struggles to maintain eye contact.

 

"I believe you, for inflicting pain is not in your nature. However, you also knew what the consequences of your actions would be; my pain is unavoidable. Therefore, I believe you did not undertake such an action without reason. Please talk to me. We cannot continue in this way," Michael pleads earnestly, her eyes wet with tears.

 

"Come home with me, and I will tell you why I ran like a heroine in one of your foster mother’s novels. My reasoning is little better, but I promise not to pursue you in a downpour pleading my case.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
